Wuju
by Rasputin Zero
Summary: Ten years have passed since the War, and the Shou Yu Dance Academy has become one of the foremost schools of the new era. But On Ji, the school's founder, has to deal with a strange intruder on the day the new Fire Lord is supposed to visit. Oneshot.


She took a deep breath and stiffened her muscles. She needed to give an impression of complete command and effortless self-confidence. But she knew perfectly well that command is never complete no matter what your profession, and that self-confidence is not only far from effortless...it's downright exhausting. She had been made very aware that confidence is as much an act as it is a state of mind. The confidence one expresses is reflected in those around you, and when they reciprocate the act becomes easier to maintain. That meant that the most important part of an act, whether one is playing a character in a drama or demanding that troops risk their lives in battle, is that first minute or so of a performance when everyone is looking at you with a critically discerning eye and seeing what you've got for them. Failure in that first minute leads to failure after failure after that. But success...it's the most intoxicating drug known to man. Once the audience is won over, you quickly forget you were ever nervous. You end up being tricked by your own performance as badly as the audience is. You drown blissfully in your own illusion.

But there was still that first hurdle. That first, terrible hurdle to overcome where the big moment opens up before you and all you can think about is the million and one ways it can all go horribly wrong. She had found only one solution to this problem: don't think. Do. Whether you're doing it _right _or not is irrelevant, just so long as you're doing _something_. So she straightened herself, slowed her breathing, and strode across the wooden floor to the door, sliding it across and walking into the main room. She paid no attention to detail, and acted as if nothing else existed but her. The performance had begun.

"Okay, dancers! Anyone sticking around thinking this is a general exercise room, it's next door and try not to make too much of a fuss as you head out! Everyone else, get to positions!" On Ji clapped her hands together and walked through the rushing torrent of dance students eddying to the edges of the room. A few embarrassed people quietly skulked out the main sliding doors, but neither she nor anyone else paid them any heed. She was the eye of the hurricane, the steady ship in rough seas. By the time she had reached the other end, stopped and turned, the wildfire had been tamed into a controlled burn, resting on the edges of the room and preparing themselves for the lesson ahead. No one ever ceased moving.

The murmur that had rumbled before had lessened into a background hum, as close to silence as On Ji was ever going to get out of these people. Good, she felt. The moment they became completely silent was the moment they might as well not dance. Why express oneself with one's body if one can't even express oneself with one's mouth? Regardless, the room did quieten as On Ji stood still and looked across the assemblage. To the students, it looked like she was asserting her authority through quiet dignity. But in fact something much simpler was going on: she was checking to see who was here. The room seemed altogether more crowded than usual. There was the typical smattering of new faces (that she doubted were ever on any register in this place), but the extraordinary thing was the lack of empty spaces. Everyone had turned up this time around.

On Ji's pony-tail whipped around as she looked from face to face. She was wearing a wrap-around short-sleeved shirt tied with a cotton belt, over a pair of skin-hugging trunks, bandages wrapped around hands and feet. It was functional teacher-ware, lacking in ostentatiousness but abundant in professionalism, which was most needed when dealing with the overly large grouping she had to gently shepherd. Word must have gotten out about the visit today, On Ji realised. She giggled internally. Expecting gossip about the school's important guest to not spread amongst these teenage girls like wildfire was like expecting them not to breathe. That the comparatively few boys who attended had also turned up en masse spoke wonders about the visitors' appeal. On Ji herself had butterflies in her stomach, and wild fantasies ran riot in her overactive imagination. She didn't allow a single tremor of these thoughts to erupt across her face. She had a school to run.

"Right! I know you're all sick and tired of practicing the Sunbringer Style, so today I bring good news! You'll be doing the Arcing Fireflies Style as well!" On Ji smiled, and maintained that smile amidst the barely-concealed groaning that met her announcement, "thought you might like your old favourite back for the sake of variety! We'll be mixing and matching today, so keep on your toes, watch for the changes and yes, I can see your hand up. What is it?"

A teenage girl had raised her hand gingerly and reluctantly. Her sharp features had softened slightly over the short time she'd been at the school, as On Ji had stressed from day one that celery did not constitute a full balanced meal, but it was apparent that she hadn't been here long, and her question confirmed this as she asked tremblingly, "sorry, I...I never learnt the Arcing Fireflies Style..."

"Doesn't matter," On Ji stated flatly, "if you come to a juncture and don't know what to do next, just be imaginative. I have no time for dancers who can't use their initiative."

"Oh..." the dancer shrank a little, and On Ji felt at once that she was a little too harsh on the girl. She instantly shunted that thought to the darkest regresses of her mind. If she felt she was being too tough, then that meant she was _just tough enough_. The girl will have a chance to shine soon enough, and would likely be grateful for the advice in the long run. While it might be easier to teach things by rote, and more comforting for the learner to think there was a strict order to things that someone else had already written down for you, ultimately that defeats what dancing is _about_. Dance styles are useful starting points to keep dancers from feeling around in the dark, but ultimately dancing is meaningless if you take the _dancer_ out of the equation. If you try to convey a message through your body, you must always keep in mind that it is _you_ who's conveying the message.

Of course, you can't just _tell_ a student that. On Ji kept instruction to the bare minimum and led by example, managing the dancers' dexterity and sense of balance, concentrating not so much on what they were doing as whether they could do it. The dancing styles were taught for that purpose, to inform students of what their bodies were capable of. Once that hurdle was overcome, and mid-air collisions had been reduced to an infrequent interruption, she moved on to inculcating mood. To get someone feeling happy, sad, or angry, they needed to feel happy, sad or angry _about_ something. The sunghi horn player (an irritable but dependable young man named Than, who had helped her since the school's formation) had a repertoire of songs to which she knew the back stories, but told them in as cool and dispassionate a way as possible, _daring_ the students into expressing the stories' meaning through their movements. She was never hesitant in telling dancers when they slipped up, but it was left to them to figure out how to correct their mistakes. Her approach might have infuriated more than a few dancers, but only they knew how best to use their bodies.

"Alright! Than!" On Ji commanded, "10,000 Silver Dragons, if you will."

"That one makes my fingers blister!" Than complained. The lad was older than most of the dancers, and felt that this gave him a certain authority over the others to complain whenever he felt like it. He was a student as much as the rest of them, but being the 'instrument player' apparently placed him on a higher tier. On Ji had endless fun cutting him down to size.

"Good thing you're playing it, then," On Ji smiled deviously, "you can build up an immunity and harden your digits. Okay! No groups this time! You're all massive, powerful beasts! Ancient and wise! You don't entirely belong in this world! You flock together, but each one of you is your own boss! Kyi will take the lead...just dance in a tight circle for now...and the rest will follow in a brisk pace! Not so fast that you trip up over yourselves, okay!? Follow the rhythm as you dance around in a circle, then on the rushes whichever four of you is closest to the circle's compass points, run across the middle and arc _through_ each other! There's more to it than that, of course, but it will do for now! Get ready!"

"Um...what happens if more than four of us run across the middle?" a male dancer asked as everyone got to their positions.

"I'm as interested in finding out as you are," On Ji allowed a small smile to cross her face, then clapped her hands one more time, "okay! Let's go!"

Than began playing, and the dancers started to move around in a tight circle after the extroverted female dancer Kyi. The early efforts were comparatively clumsy, though a few stood out. The rest would catch the vibe eventually, but the biggest problem at this stage was getting over their inhibitions. The students tended to have an underlying self-consciousness that got in the way of effective dancing, but it was easier to dispose of every time they practiced. Indeed, it was largely gone by the time the music reached its first energetic rush. As anticipated, six students misread the signals and broke off to run to the other side of the circle, their paths crossing like a bicycle spoke. Each dancer avoided the head-on collision differently. One dancer cartwheeled, another did a forward flip. Two joined hands and leapt together over another dancer who rolled underneath. The sixth dancer saw and opening and corkscrewed through it. They all managed to reach the other side in one piece. It was rather impressive.

"I'm not seeing dragons here! A bunch of toucan-puffins, maybe, but if I wanted to see a flock of birds I'd go to the coast! You're beings beyond human comprehension! I should be an insect to you! You don't float on the wind! The wind gets out of your way if it knows better!" On Ji badgered, quietly pleased with how well the dancers are getting into the spirit of things but nevertheless riling them up into suitably dragon-like behaviour. She wanted to tap into their sense of pride, to tell her to get off their backs and mind her own business. But she wanted them to tell her that through _dance_.

There was always more than one way to communicate. To make oneself known and to get across something valuable. But verbal language could only say so much. There was always a point where one tries to tell someone else something and exhausts the possibilities of language to say it. Rather than give up and return to your own shell, why not try something different? It's little insights like that...bits and pieces of the art of performance as useful off the stage as on it...that the Fire Nation had needed. It was such a fundamental part of Fire Nation character...passion, expressiveness and drive...and for over a hundred years it had nearly become extinct from neglect. The countless expressions of a people had been channeled and moulded into the stultifying expression of one man through force of arms. Now a new man had come along and decided in the interest of the whole world to take a more hands-off approach to such things.

It was hard to come to terms with this strange new world. Ever since the rise of the Fire Lord, the Fire Nation had been shaped and reformed into a support mechanism for constant total warfare. Industry, education, art and community had been organised under the assumption that they were catering for a nation of soldiers, who needed weaponry, training, motivation and a civilian support mechanism. Now the Hundred Years War was over, that entire structure had been made obsolete. Children who had been taught all their lives that their destiny was in the military now had no idea what to do with their lives. A generation of 16 year olds were leaving school clueless about what to do with their lives. Except On Ji. She knew exactly what she wanted to do.

The Fire Nation had become crowded as overseas colonists had been progressively 'repatriated' (read: booted out) from the Earth Kingdom. This had given On Ji a good taste of the many diverse dance styles that survived in the hinterland, away from the watchful gaze of the Fire Lord. She spent years learning the art of performance and all its intricacies, and had overtime gathered the urge to give this gift to others. She may never have had the chance were it not for a surprising benefactor. For whatever reason the new Fire Lord's uncle, Iroh (who had no title to speak of but had still managed to exercise considerable authority) had heard of her little project and gave it the Fire Lord's official sponsorship. On Ji had no clue why he'd sponsored _her_ of all people. Maybe he had been to one of her performances? No matter how many times she had tried to prod, the kindly old man had brushed off the question with a strategically-timed anecdote. No use looking a gift-rhino in the mouth, she had decided, and set about forming the Shou Yu Dance Academy. In a few short years it had grown from a hall filled with starstruck youngsters who didn't know better to one of the Fire Nation's most august institutions. There wasn't much competition, post-demilitarisation, but it seemed like there was a new wing every couple of months. On Ji could barely keep up with it all, and had delegated a lot of responsibilities to concentrate on teaching.

And now that official sponsorship, after three years of patronage, had culminated in this day. The Fire Lord himself was coming to visit. The architect of the end of the War, along with the Avatar, he commanded intense loyalty in those around him, but was remarkably unknown amongst the citizenry. He was known as a reclusive man, rarely seen in public, which had contributed to an air of mystique around him. On Ji could tell that these teenage girls (and more than a few boys) were getting their chests into a flutter over a hopeless fantasy inculcated by lack of knowledge, but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't bought into it to some extent. It took all her willpower to keep her heart from leaping into her throat when the doors opened up abruptly behind her. She also hid her disappointment when the interrupter turned out to be nothing more than a mid-level bureaucrat.

"Pardon me, sorry to interrupt," the thin, middle-aged man held up an open palm and a closed fist against each other and bowed politely, "I'm just here to scout the grounds in preparation for the Fire Lord's arrival. I'm sure you understand..."

"Well then forgive me for misunderstanding, but I was under the impression that 'scouting' somehow involved 'sneaking around quietly not drawing attention to themselves'," On Ji snapped as the song and dance ground to a crawl behind her. Every moment the man paused to look affronted was valuable lesson time draining away, and she tapped her foot impatiently, "there. You've scouted. Skidaddle."

On Ji flapped a hand in the man's direction to hurry him out, and the bureaucrat looked close to Complaining in some official capacity, but apparently thought better of it, closing the door behind him. On Ji sighed internally at the false hope, and externally brought up a show of professionalism, clapping her hands together to spur new life into the lesson, "come on! Come on! It should take more to distract 10,000 dragons than some putz taking a wrong turn! Don't even _think_ about stopping!"

The lesson carried on for another half an hour, during which time On Ji introduced the class to more intricate movements in the dance, until the group wasn't so much circling as snaking around the room. The individual dancers were having to cartwheel over, roll under and corkscrew through an increasing number of lines of their own classmates. The next stage would come when there was more than one snaking line to follow, but that could wait until after lunch. The students were holding up surprisingly well to the advanced lessons, even the new kids. On Ji guessed they had learned by themselves beforehand, which meant that the school's influence must have been spreading. She tried hard to keep her ego from exploding and keep her mind on the lesson.

It wasn't easy when there was a not-unattractive young man sitting quietly on a bench to the side of the room observing the lesson.

She'd never even noticed him come in. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, rather thin, casually-dressed, wearing a mop of unruly black hair and apart from the nasty-looking scar covering his left eye he seemed remarkably fetching. On Ji kept her inner princess firmly buried under concrete and looked at him sinisterly. The man was an _intruder_, after all. There wasn't a rule against observing lessons, but...well...it just wasn't on. Walking in without asking and just sitting there distracting the young 'uns. Especially with an important dignitary coming. She decided to give the man a piece of her mind.

"Alright, dancers! For the next five minutes you're dancing on your own! You better make the most of it, because it's not happening again! And don't even think about slacking! I'm watching you!" On Ji wiped her hands clean of the lesson for a while, and sauntered across to the intruding man. What was he doing sitting there watching a school of teenage girls anyway? There was a name for people who did that. Though as she drew closer she started to see a powerful resemblance with somebody. Not somebody she'd met, just somebody she'd...seen somehow. It was hard to put a finger on, and On Ji decided to leave the mystery to her inner child to give her something useful to do while her outer grown-up dealt with matters at hand, "can I help you at all?"

"What?" the scarred man looked up half-distractedly. It was a weirdly electrifying set of eyeballs that fell on her in that instant, as even though he only looked at her for a couple of seconds, she could feel an intense, determined focus on her during that time. He seemed to look at everything that way, seeing the world through a series of narrowed gazes. It appeared to be fully under his control as he focused again on the 10,000 dragons, dismissing On Ji's question, "oh, no, I'm okay. Just enjoying the show."

"This isn't a _show_. It's a place of serious study," On Ji protested with arms firmly crossed, "if you want to join up, you need a letter of recommendation from a teacher or pass an entrance examination, and turn up next week with a pair of dancing shoes. Otherwise you'd better have a good reason for interrupting my class."

"I'm _not_ interrupting your class," the young man looked On Ji square in the eye with that golden-eyed gaze again. Despite his apparent light-heartedness, there was steel in his voice, "if anything, you're interrupting your own class. You don't need to pay attention to me."

"I'll have you know I'm expecting an important visitor today," On Ji retreated to arguing from authority, "you could say _the most_ important visitor. He's not a man you can mess with and live, you understand who I'm talking about?"

"All the more reason for me to stick around," the man made a complete turnaround in mood and smiled warmly, oozing honest happiness despite his snarkiness, "doesn't sound like a visit I'd want to miss."

That was open, simple, infective and as infuriating as being locked in a room with an infinite number of cicadas. It was a smile that was impossible to hate, which was why she hated it so much. Seeing that she wasn't getting anywhere, she pinched the bridge of her nose in exhaustion and sat down on the bench next to the stranger, crumbling under the futility of trying to smart-talk him out of the place. Instead, she employed the teacher's art of deconstruction, drawling "fine. I'll give. Why are you here and what will it take to make you go away?"

The stranger, previously in undisputed command of the conversation, decided to wait until now to clam up in embarrassment. He covered it up with mild, but steely, annoyance as he claimed, "it's not like I _want_ to be here. I don't _do_ dancing, and I've never felt remotely inclined to try. It's more for my uncle's sake than anything else. He's well away from here...retired, you see...but somehow I keep having these things in my schedule and I just _know_ he's had a hand in it somewhere. Considers it character-building. The arts and all that. I find it hard to think of it as anything other than an enormous waste of time. But you know how it is, you feel _obligated_ to do it. I put him through hell when I was a teenager, and he never hesitates to guilt-trip me whenever he wants something out of me. It's for the best, I guess..."

"Thank you. That's great. You've answered question _one_, then..." On Ji grated, wanting to clamp down firmly before the guy droned on even longer about his life story. He came across as a man unused to talking about his personal issues, so they came in an unfocused torrent whenever the opportunity presented itself. On Ji continued regardless, "but you still haven't told me what I need to do to get rid of you."

"Do you treat _every_ visitor this way?" the man sniped irritably.

"No. I treat every _gate-crasher_ this way," On Ji countered smartly, "and don't change the subject."

"I've already explained..._painstakingly_...that all I'm doing is sitting here and quietly observing the fine talents of your students," the man fumed in a low, almost threatening tone, "and I'll leave in my own good time. Though I might just go away right now if this is how you treat polite guests. You're hardly doing wonders for your reputation."

This intruder sure was full of himself, On Ji thought. To think his own word would be enough to affect her reputation. The only reputation she was concerned with was her reputation for training good dancers. Everything beyond that was mere etiquette. And just why did he think he was so important, anyway? He didn't look like anyone special. His clothes didn't seem cheap, but they were hardly extravagant. His manner spoke of being the bored son of a local administrator. He was sloppily groomed, if handsome, but...then there was the question of where his scar came from. He was in his mid-twenties, so he might have been old enough to fight in the War before it ended. But she had seen her fair share of old war wounds going through her school, and they had mostly consisted of the stabbed, slashed, and bludgeoned-by-rocks varieties. Burn scars were a firebending speciality. Maybe it came from an Agni Kai? Those had shot up in popularity as of late, as the end of the War and the masses of unemployed soldiers had led to young people challenging one another to get their frustrations out, a practice that she'd expressly forbidden on pain of expulsion in her school. It had become so widespread that getting a 'dueling scar' had become a sign of prestige amongst the young. But there was rules and etiquette involved these days. You usually left an unobtrusive mark on the cheek or something if you were dueling. You didn't burn half of someone's face off in the case of this man. Whatever he had been involved in, it looked serious.

That air of mystery was starting to waft around again. Well, she still had five minutes while the dancers went through their routines, might as well make it pleasant.

"I'm sorry. Just feel pre-occupied, and all that. Lots of things to do today. Didn't mean to take it out on you," On Ji relaxed, letting a small grin surface at the absurdity of it all.

"No worries. You look like you're busy," the scarred man relaxed in turn, though in a noticeably rigid fashion, like he was relaxing because he intentionally told himself to, "I'll try to be less noticeable next time."

"All you needed to do was ask first," On Ji shrugged. For some reason the man found this funny, and On Ji continued, "so how do you like my dancers so far?"

"Tell you the truth? I honestly don't know. I don't have a frame of reference," the man looked aside in clammed-up embarrassment, "I don't really..._dance_."

"Oh come on. Everybody dances," On Ji smiled whimsically, moving on to the subject of her passion, "life's a dance. You move according to a set tune...step, shuffle and jump in sequence...do well in some bits, badly in others...you take on a role, you stamp your identity on it, and when the music stops you take a bow and leave the stage."

"I had no idea dancing could make you so philosophical," the man commented without a trace of sarcasm.

"Sign of a true virgin, by the sounds of it," On Ji's smile grew, and she looked up and away as she thought back, "I was like that, once. All clammed up inside, thinking I had to do things a certain way, never daring to poke outside my own bubble. That my whole life was just a reel of music and all I could do was play it. Never knowing I could move around in it too."

"So what happened to make you realise this?" the man asked.

She didn't mind letting the blush show. It was a long time ago and they were both adults now. On Ji smiled at the floor, "someone came along and showed me there was more to music than the notes that get played. It was shortly before the War ended. Some boy from the colonies who dropped in and out of our school in a matter of days. It was like a comet ploughed through it, nothing was the same after that. Never saw him again, but I knew from that moment that I wanted to be a dancer."

"If you were to run into this boy again, what would you say to him?" the man queried.

"Uh...I don't know...'thanks'?" On Ji shrank a little, not expecting this line of questioning. She hadn't thought about the boy with the headband for months, but it was impossible to ever forget him, "I just wish I could tell him about this place. I wonder how he'd react to it? Whether he'd be pleased with it?"

"I'd say he's paying attention," the man said cryptically, looking around the room and nodding, "and I'm sure he's very happy about what you've achieved."

The man was being coy about something, On Ji realised. She regarded him suspiciously. Why did he think he was in any position to speculate about what the boy with the headband would be thinking or doing, ten years later? He thinks himself so important, even with the Fire Lord showing up. The Fire Lord didn't announce a time or anything, and it would be horrendously awkward if he turned up no...wait a second. They've got a portrait or two of the Fire Lord hanging up somewhere. Wasn't he given a scar over his left eye in a duel with his father? But...no, she's just being ridiculous. He can't be the Fire Lord. Fire Lords wear great robes and golden helms in their top knots. This man didn't even have a top knot. Fire Lords announce themselves and talk in weighty prose about what a contribution to the Nation she was giving. They don't saunter in unannounced and lounge on a bench in the corner of rooms. It's just not what Fire Lords _do_. She pushed the thought out of her mind and looked over at the dancers reaching the end of the song.

"I don't know. Look, I better get back to the class. I'm sure I saw two people head-butting somewhere in that dance," On Ji got to her feet, and the scarred man did likewise.

"You _are_ the teacher. It's only right that you should be teaching," the man turned and faced On Ji, apparently preparing to say his farewells, "I better be going too. Thanks for not kicking me out and for the talk. It sounds funny...but...I think you're on to something. It sounds like something people need to learn."

"That's..." On Ji was a little taken aback, professionally of course, "...that's very nice of you."

"Oh, don't say that. I'm just the gate-crasher," the man waved On Ji's thanks away, "but you should meet my uncle sometime. I think you'd get along pretty well."

"I'm sure we will," On Ji stated hurriedly, impatience creeping back into her manner, "if you want to come again, will you _please_ ask at reception next time? If you just want to watch, that's fine, as long as you take some pointers."

"Thanks, I will," the man nodded and headed to the door, turning as he opened it to walk out, "I'll see you again some time!"

The door shut as On Ji looked at it wordlessly. On the one hand, she'd enjoyed his company. On the other hand, he'd hogged valuable and irreplaceable lesson time. She made a mental note to tell reception that should he ever approach again, tell him she was away on holiday. She turned back to the class and clapped her hands together as the music came to an end, "that was pretty good! But I'm training you to be 'pretty good'! You need to be able to do this in your sleep! From the top! _Counter-clockwise_ this time! Let's see how well you do! Begin!"

The sunghi horn started up again, and the dancing dragons wheeled around in the opposite direction. On Ji stood and watched impassively, authoritatively. And continued to do so even when she turned to face the interruption coming from the door. She snapped levelly at the scarred man, "what is it _now?_ I thought you said you'd be more unobtrusive?"

"Sorry, it's just something I needed to tell all of you," the man poked his head out from the corridor and walked into the room, seeming to grow in size as he wandered across. His voice even fell an octave and took on an echo as he proclaimed, "this Concludes my Official Inspection of the Shou Yu Dance Academy. I must let you know I am Pleased with what I have Seen of your Institution and Fully Intend to Continue my Sponsorship for the Foreseeable Future. On behalf of the Fire Nation, I Extend my Admiration and Gratitude for the Gift you Bestow upon our Nation. It was an Honour, Citizens."

The dancers skidded and fell over themselves to a halt and Than dropped the sunghi horn in surprise, as Fire Lord Zuko bowed respectfully at the students. There was no time to clean up, or put on an appearance, and left frozen in headlights the class didn't consider the possibility of preparing for the Fire Lord's attendance until the moment had already passed. Zuko shrunk again in stature, and wandered out without any fanfare, shutting the door behind himself.

The students saw the back of On Ji's frozen head, and immediately saw what would happen next. She'd quietly fume in anger for a good long while, seething slowly at this glorious snub to her reputation, then wheel around and bark at them for the rest of the day to work...without break and well into overtime...until they were no longer able to stand straight. They steeled themselves for the worst, waiting for the approaching explosion in temper in silent dread.

On Ji burst out laughing.

This left them completely stymied. On Ji didn't _laugh_. She especially didn't clutch her sides in an uncontrollable bout of raw guffawing. And yet here she was doing just that. The teacher got just enough control of herself to wipe a tear away and wave off the student body, half-crumpling "...okay...okay...heheh...take...thirty minute break! Thirty minute break! See you at noon! Hahaha..."

The dancers didn't entirely believe their senses at first, so it took a while before they began to scatter off and do their own things. More than that...they just met the Fire Lord. And he was a handsome young man with a straggly hairdo. Everything about today was distinctly odd. So they left On Ji to chortle her way away to the edge of the room, opening her office door and struggling over to the door to the balcony outside to recover from her fit of giggles.

Her muscles were loose and her breath intoxicatingly all over the place. It felt good, she decided. It felt good to be a kid again. Losing the inhibitions and just letting your feelings take over her body. She leaned against the balcony and slowly calmed herself, hungrily lapping up the humour. Funny though, she considered. That was exactly what dancing was about. She was surprised at how her own thoughts and teachings applied just as much to her situation as to that of her students. She smiled warmly at the midday sky outside, looking over the lush green river valley the school looked over. It took an abrupt visit from an irritatingly uptight man who just happened to be the Fire Lord to remind her just how far she had wandered from her own lessons.

She sighed in a 13-year-old teenage girl way. It was kind of pathetic that turnings in her life were dependent on cute guys blundering in and out of her life without a bye or leave. She took to wondering about that boy with the headband again. Where was he now? What was he doing? What did Zuko mean when he said 'he's paying attention'? Did Zuko know something she didn't?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a distant sound, a loud echoing growl that could only be heard in the silent spring air. She puzzled, feeling a slight draft that shook the windows and looking up in the direction of the growl to see something briefly in the corner of her eye. It looked, to her addled imagination, like a flying ball of fur, and in an instant it was gone.

Was that? No. It couldn't have been.

**The End.**

_**Avatar: The Last Airbender **_Concept and Characters © Nickelodeon 2005-07

* * *

**Author's Note: **Gack. I've been working on this story constantly for the last week. A little paragraph here and a little paragraph there when in all honesty I could have easily sat down and written it all in a single afternoon. My reason for prevaricating? After being bludgeoned into sedation by Cornwall, I have now moved to London, where after a straight work of constant work, tons of overtime and excessive Tube travel I came home utterly exhausted and in no condition to write much of anything. Even yesterday was set aside for simply recovering. Now, today, I've finally given myself the time to hammer out this gem of an idea I had after seeing 'The Headband'. It's my first simple 'one-shot', and I thought it would be a nice change of pace while I settled into my new life editing bio-chemistry journals. I'll get back to 'His Dream of Skyland' straight after this, (ignoring my urge to write something inspired by 'Sokka's Master'. A man can only have so many projects). I just thought it would be interesting to expand on On Ji and the principles of dance. No shipping intended. AT ALL. Honest. :)

So...did you like it?


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